Housemate
by Iryl
Summary: [Complete] Miroku and Sango are cops, but Sango has to admit that her feelings are getting in the way at work. I look at the teamwork between them and the things she loves about Miroku-how he's steady, smart, and dependable-in spite of him being a lech.
1. Housemate

**Housemate**

by Iryl

Two figures skulked outside the blazing warehouse. A rave was going on inside, but they weren't there for the party. They were waiting for the radios on their shoulders to spur them into movement.

"Team Monk and Exterminator, go!" The com fizzed and sputtered and the two moved in like oiled lightening, slipping into the party and shoving people out of the way as they made their move for the heavily guarded interior door. They saw two other teams moving from different directions and saw them grappling with less obliging and certainly drunk teenagers.

Shouts of "Police!" filled the warehouse and a stampeding fight for the doors began -- the Exterminator found herself knocking terrified kids away so that her partner could get to their goal.

This was going very badly.

Thinking it was a way out, kids were fighting the guards to get into the back room. The guards were looking panicked and some of them took off, probably thinking to slip past police in the turmoil.

"Two birds going west, over," she told her walkie-talkie.

"Got it," fizzed back.

The kids had broken through to the back room, but the ones in front saw that it wasn't an exit and tried to turn back. They were quickly pushed in.

"We need to get in there!" she yelled over her shoulder. Her partner looked toward the door and nodded, grim.

They sprang into action together, fighting their way quickly to the doors and struggling in. By now, the crowd knew that the room wasn't a way out and inside it men with guns had started a panic, shooting the ceiling to turn the tide back.

"There!" she cried, pointing beyond the men with guns to the girl tied and gagged. They moved together, dispatching guards before they could realize that these weren't drug-dazed youths.

Before the guards knew what had happened, the young bound woman was being quickly pulled into the crowds and lost from them.

"Follow us! We're police officers," she said, bustling the girl along and untying her gag at the same time. The three of them were being jostled too heavily to cut the girl's ropes, so they only pushed her onward -- pausing only to send other officers to delay the guards.

They got her out in the confusion and away to waiting paramedics -- who would check her for bruises and abrasions. But first, the young man cut her bonds and clasped her hands.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you." She was a flushed, delicate beauty with hair like black silk and windswept eyes.

"Good," he smiled. "Will you bear my children?"

Whack. It was the dull sound of his partner's fist to the back of his head rather than the sharp crack of a palm to his cheek.

He winced as he was dragged away. "Ow."

"No hitting on the witness," she told him. "Are you hurt?" She'd noticed the blood on his hand.

He rolled up his left sleeve. "Just my arm -- grazed, really. One of those guys had a knife."

She knelt beside him, businesslike. "I got some gauze from the paramedics."

"I need some aniseptic, don't you think?" he said and stood. There was something too nonchalant about it. "I'll just go ask for some rubbing alcohol . . . some cotton balls . . . that girl's phone number . . ."

"Miroku." His partner was twitching, and he suddenly found himself being pulled further from the paramedics.

She threw him in front of their boss.

"Taking a walk?" the boss asked, looking down at a happy and slightly guilty-looking special operations officer.

"Keeping the Lecherous Monk away from the witness."

"Oh. Yes, I can see that. I just spoke with her. Pretty girl."

"Should we do our reports now, sir?"

"If you don't mind. And take tomorrow off -- you did a good job." He sighed. "You know that this was a complete disaster, don't you? I'm going to have to talk with our plainclothes team -- they were supposed to get the ravers _out_ once we started in. I knew putting Kagome and Inuyasha on a team was a bad idea . . ."

He started muttering to himself, so she knew she could go.

"Come on, Miroku. Let's go get that paperwork out of the way." She started toward her car.

"Sure," he said, following her. He stopped looking over his shoulder.

At the police station, they sat in a quiet corner and filled out all the necessary forms, sometimes pausing to ask a question. Sometimes Sango thought that this was her favorite part of the job. She liked the action and getting things done right, but there was something peaceful and almost zen about working quietly with Miroku as the sweat dried on their hot, tired bodies and they came down from the adrenaline high that their night left them with. It was nice -- as nice as moving in perfect synch in a fight. One look and they knew where the other would move if things went bad.

"Done," she said and stretched -- a long, cat-like limbering of the muscles. Miroku paused to watch her. "You?" she asked when she saw that he'd stopped.

He looked back down at his paper and added a few words. "Yes."

They put their reports in the captain's inbox and left, nodding to some other officers coming in from the same operation.

"How's your arm?" she asked as they got in her jeep.

He looked at it -- the sleeve was still rolled up and crusted with blood. "It stopped bleeding a while ago, but I should clean it up."

She spared a glance for it. "I'll take care of it when we get home."

They lived in a two-bedroom apartment. It was roomy and platonic -- he never went in her room and she never went in his. They took turns cooking and did their laundry seperately.

"Sit down," she told him and got out their first aide kit. With a warm washcloth, she cleaned away the dried blood -- but that made the wound start bleeding again. She dabbed alcohol on it, frowning at his indrawn hiss of pain, and started wrapping it carefully in gauze.

"Thanks," he said when she was done. He flexed his muscle gingerly and winced.

"No problem." She put the kit away. "Good night."

They seperated, falling into exhausted sleep.

* * *

Miroku awoke to the smell of eggs. He'd allowed himself to sleep in since they had the day off and it was almost ten in the morning.

He felt good.

"What are you making?" he asked as he went into the living room.

"Bacon and eggs," she replied, not looking up. "You want some?"

"Sure."

"Here," she handed him the plate she'd made for herself and started to make some more.

"Thanks." He got out the orange juice.

"Pour me a glass," she told him, and he did.

For a while, there was just the clink of silverware and crackle of food being cooked.

"What are you doing today?" she asked as she sat down.

"I'm not sure. You feel like renting a movie?"

She grimiced delicately over her eggs. "I can't. I'm going out."

He looked up. "Where?"

She shrugged, miserable and embarrassed. "I don't know. It's a date." She mumbled the last bit, ducking over her food.

He was still pausing over his plate as if he didn't know what it was. "With who?"

"A guy I met at the supermarket last week." She had gone alone because Miroku had been tired. "He was really nice -- I couldn't say no." She felt like she had to justify herself to him, but she wasn't sure why.

She ended up poking at her food until Miroku got up and put his dishes in the sink.

That evening, Sango slipped into a skirt and brushed her long hair out. She usually didn't go to any extra lengths with her appearance, but she didn't want to make a disgrace of herself on her first date in months.

She was putting her things into a nicer purse when someone knocked on their front door.

Miroku got it.

"Hi," he said in the uncomfortable silence. Feeling pressed to explain but not wanting to, he added, "Come on in. I'm Sango's roommate. She's still getting ready."

"Oh," the man said, walking in and looking a little bit stunned. "You . . . live together?"

Miroku wasn't sure if he would have said something helpful or something devilish, but he was saved by Sango's appearance.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, and both men turned. She was standing in her doorway, clutching her purse in front of her and blushing.

Miroku felt an odd pang in his chest. He roused himself to say, "Your boyfriend was just asking if we lived together."

She looked up quickly and blushed even further. "Sorry," she told her date, meaning she was sorry for not mentioning that her roommate was male. "He's harmless if you know how hard to hit him."

They laughed, and even Miroku smiled a little. It was very awkward.

"Go on, have fun," he said as they left, standing back and refusing to give in to the instinct to tell her to be home by nine. Alone, he went and fell backwards onto the couch, grumpily turning the TV on and flipping through the channels.

* * *

"Miroku and I are partners at the police station in the special operations unit. It was just bad finances that had us rooming together. The situation worked so well, though, that we decided to keep it." She smiled. "It's really not so bad."

Her date nodded, smiling a little. "As long as you're just friends," he said. He looked at her with big, steady eyes and seemed content with what he saw.

"Yeah, we are." She couldn't help the pang of guilt she felt, but tried her hardest to ignore it.

* * *

"Be happy."

It was the softest of phrases, and Sango turned to look at Miroku's gentle smile. "What?" It was the next evening and she was waiting for her date to pick her up again.

"Whatever you do," he said, looking away, "just be happy."

"Thank you." She wasn't sure what else to say -- but she was saved by a knock on the door.

* * *

"Good job." Sango and Miroku smiled at each other, walking toward her jeep. They didn't drive a standard black and white because of the department they were in, but she had a small portable light and siren for emergencies.

They slid in and she rolled her head around to limber up her neck muscles -- then turned the key and heard the steady growl of the motor. "Ow," she muttered, rubbing a sore muscle.

"Hurt your neck?" he looked over at her, pausing in fastening his seatbelt.

"Yeah, I guess so." She was still wincing and rubbing it, so she was startled when he took her hand and told her to turn around.

"A very old woman told me how to do this," he said, smiling as he rubbed the tension out of her shoulders and neck. She sighed and relaxed in his hands. "_She_, at least, wanted to bear my child."

Sango laughed, then felt a familiar warm pressure on her butt. Sighing for a whole other reason, she turned and smacked him across the face. He removed his hand.

"Couldn't help it," he smiled.

She just shook her head and drove to the station, the tension back in her neck.

* * *

"Where are you going this time?" Miroku asked, not looking up from his book. He was lounging on the couch while Sango plaited her hair into two braids in the living room mirror.

"That new action movie. Wanna come?" She smiled at him -- a genuine grin. He hadn't seen her this happy for a while.

He raised an eyebrow. "On your date? No thanks."

"What date?" She tied off the second braid and looked at him, confused.

He looked at her, as confused as she was. "With that guy. Supermarket guy. You've been dating him for two weeks now."

She blinked, then laughed. "I broke up with him last week!" When he only stared at her, she grinned at him and pulled her purse over her shoulder. She was back to jeans and comfortable cotton shirts -- just then, she was wearing a loose long-sleeved black tee. "When you told me to do what made me happy -- I thought about it for a while and decided he wasn't what I wanted. He was a nice guy, but." She shrugged. "So are you coming, or what?"

After staring at her for a very long moment, he put his book down and nodded. "Yeah." A smile slowly pushed its way across his face. "Yeah, I'm coming. Give me a minute to find my shoes."

* * *

"It serves you right," Sango said the next day at lunch. They were in a small corner diner and Miroku was sporting a black eye. He was drinking tea and looking uselessly philosophical about his injury. "If you're going to grope an ameteur kick-boxer, you are going to get hurt."

"She shouldn't drop things, then. Can I help it if she bent over right in front of me?"

Sango glared. "This is why girls are afraid of you, you know. If you would keep your hands off a girl for a few days and just let her see the steady, smart, dependable man under the lech, you wouldn't be able to keep them off of you."

He looked curious and faintly surprised. "You think that?"

She glanced up at him and for a moment there was a connection that had nothing to do with fighting or friendship. Sango looked away quickly and swallowed to get her voice working again. "Of course. Why do you think _I_ haven't killed you yet?" She laughed a little and the serious moment passed.

_Damn,_ she thought. _I have to be more careful with this._ Her breath was short and she seemed to have lost control over all of her limbs. She ended up knocking her knife onto the floor.

Miroku waited for her to sit back up before he said anything. "We need to get back." But he looked preoccupied as they split the bill and went back to the station.

* * *

It was a week later that Sango realized why -- and realized that she should have kept her mouth _shut_.

Miroku brought home a girl.

A shiny-haired, smooth-skinned lotus blossom of a young woman. She hung on him as if he'd placed the stars in the sky, and she let his hand rest where it wanted.

"This is Sango," he introduced, smiling. "She gave me the advice that helped bring us together."

She was flushed because he kept rubbing her bottom, but stepped forward and bowed to Sango. "I'm Miroku's fiancee." She paused, looking up. "Um . . . are you all right? You look a little bit . . . purple."

She was very purple -- sputtering on her own emotions. It was a volitile coctail of rage, grief, and disbelief that swayed her like a flower in a gale.

"Sango?" Miroku asked and found a hardback book being lobbed at his head. By the time he recovered, she'd stormed into her room and slammed the door behind herself.

"I think she's mad," the girl beside him said, looking nervous.

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at her. "Maybe we could call it a night."

"I'll just go home, then," she smiled, and whether he'd been planning to ask her to stay or not, she let herself out.

* * *

"Watch it," Miroku said and pulled Sango down. They were giving backup at a convenience store robbery that had turned into a shootout when police arrived. He and Sango wore sleek black bullet-proof vests and were ducked behind a police car for cover. The last spray of bullets had turned sharply in their direction, volleying where Sango's head had been.

"Thanks," she gasped, still not looking at him as she reloaded her gun. She'd been acting strange ever since he'd gotten engaged, and today she'd been almost completely off her game. It was dangerous to be distracted on the field.

"Sango, are you okay? Because you're doing a really bad job today."

He was being honest and was really concerned, but she hit him in the head anyway. "I'm fine," she growled, and jumped up to release another clip at the gunman. She took the time to aim while he was distracted and let four shots fly. She'd wanted to blow his brains out, pretending he was her stupid partner, but just went for his legs and gun arm.

He stumbled and started to favor his left leg, and that gave the other officers enough of a chance to take him down. Before another hour was up, he was theirs.

"Come on," she said when they were finished, throwing her vest to the s.w.a.t. guys, and Miroku had to hurry to catch up.

He didn't speak to her as they left, choosing to wait it out and let her calm down on her own. But he did look at her every now and then, worried -- especially when she erased a hole through her paper while they did their reports and started softly cursing it out.

It was so bad that when Sango slapped her report into the captain's inbox, he called her into his office.

Miroku was nervous while he waited. Inside, Sango was coming down from her bad mood and hitting the hard, black floor of reality.

"You wanna tell me what this is about, officer?" their boss asked.

She looked away and glared at nothing. "I need a transfer, sir."

He blinked. This hadn't been what he expected. "Could you give me a reason?"

"Miroku got engaged." She started tapping her foot and couldn't look at him.

Her boss nodded. "And we gave him a party." But he was gentler when he repeated, "Why do you need a transfer, officer?"

"My personal emotions are getting in the way of my job, and they're going to continue to as long as I work with him. They didn't . . . it didn't bother me before. Not until he got engaged."

Her boss just looked at her, at the unshed tears in her eyes and the angry, bitter set of her mouth, and nodded. "That's a reason to transfer. I'm trying to find a new partner for Kagome Higurashi, anyway. She and Inuyasha make more trouble together than I can handle. I think you'd get along." He pulled out the necessary papers and started filling them out right there. "Here, sit. This shouldn't take long." It took half an hour, but he finally had Sango sign them and the transfer was made.

"When you're called on duty again, it will be with Kagome."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, but there was no happiness in her tone.

* * *

Miroku found out about the transfer when the captain sent Inuyasha over to their apartment that night with papers for him to sign. He was startled, at first, to see the other young man at the door, and Sango watched him over her steaming cup of tea as he looked at the papers, confused.

"What is this?" he finally said. His fiancee was sitting on the couch. They'd been watching a movie, and Sango had been waiting for a pot of tea to boil.

"Your transfer papers. I'm your new partner," Inuyasha told him, arms folded. He tossed his head and looked down the hallway moodily. "Feh." Perhaps it hadn't been his idea to change partners either?

Miroku went very still and then slowly -- very slowly -- turned to see the black swirl of Sango's hair as she retreated to her room.

He dropped the papers and followed her. "Sango!" he said in a voice so deep and so demanding that he barely recognized it himself. He banged on her door with the side of his fist and jiggled the handle. Locked. "Sango!" he said again.

The two people behind him just watched -- neither tried to approach him, not with that wild light in his eyes.

"Open this door. _Sango_" He was banging on it continually now, hard steady thumps. And then . . . he started to cry. Not sobs, just slow tears filling his eyes, and he leaned against the door for support. "Get out," he said to the two people in the room without looking at them. "Leave me alone." The anger hadn't left him, but it wasn't the wild pulsing fury he'd initially felt. It was a slow burn of pain and hurt.

How could she? Why?

He sank down by her door and put his head against it, noticing that Inuyasha had left but his fiancee hadn't. She stood staring at him in her pink dress, and he just looked listlessly back.

"I told you to leave," he said, but it didn't have any of the conviction he'd possessed before.

"I didn't think you meant it," she said, looking frail.

"I do." He still wanted her out. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to break Sango's door down and strangle her.

He just sat and looked at the slim girl in the middle of the room until she turned around and, glancing back the whole way, left.

He didn't know how many hours he'd been sitting there by the time she opened her door. At some point he'd fallen asleep. But suddenly he was falling back and being stepped over, and he looked groggily up at Sango's black-suited form.

She didn't quite look at him. "You're going to be late for training," she said, and -- before he'd had enough time to remember what he was doing outside her door -- she was gone.

* * *

Kagome was a sharpshooter. She was a naturally cheerful, easy girl to work with, and on the field she let the prick of her bullets speak for her. Apparently, Sango found out while they were training together, Kagome hadn't wanted to lose Inuyasha as a partner -- but the captain had decided that their constant fights were getting in the way of their work and had split them up.

"I'm not saying I liked fighting," Kagome said with an unaffected shrug and quick smile. "But Inuyasha isn't so bad most of the time -- he's a talented officer and a decent guy." She gave Sango a sidelong glance. "Why did you stop working with _your_ partner? I've seen you two in action -- you're amazing."

Sango gave a grim smile and tossed out wryly, "He kept groping me."

It wasn't even half of the truth, but Kagome laughed. Miroku's hand was legendary in the city -- every female officer had encountered it at one point or another. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

"It's okay," Sango tossed her a grin. "I'm not offended -- I just got tired of it." She shrugged. "It happens."

They stopped talking and she noted pensively that Miroku and Inuyasha were talking on the other side of the training field. Miroku kept glancing her way.

She knew that she'd have to face him eventually, but she was still startled when he put his hand on her shoulder during their lunch break. There were deep shadows under his eyes and a haggard look to his face.

He pulled her away to a corner and looked directly at her. "Why?" There was a white line of tension around his mouth, and she realized that he hadn't shaved. It'd been a long time since he'd been too put out to shave.

She turned her face away. "Don't, Miroku. Not now."

"If I was such a bad partner, you should have told me."

Her voice was tight with repressed emotions. "Miroku . . ."

"If you hate me so much, maybe you should move out too," he said, and although it was just in anger, she nodded.

"I was thinking about that." She still spoke in a soft, distant voice.

He stopped. "What?"

"Last night and today, I thought maybe I should move out as well." She didn't look at him as she nodded to herself. "Yes, maybe it is best."

"Sango," he said, and his voice was dangerous.

She did look at him then, and her eyes were clear and deep and endlessly sad. "No, Miroku. There's nothing to talk about, nothing to work out. It's my decision and you don't have a choice." She looked down then and smiled at Kagome who'd approached them. To her she said, "Shall we get back to work?" and her voice was carefully cheerful.

Kagome smiled at her. "Yeah."

* * *

That night, Miroku came to the table with a sour look. "If you want to know," he said without preamble, "my fiancee just broke up with me. Seems she has a problem with how I'm taking your leaving."

"I'm sorry," she said to her food.

He looked at her for a long moment and then said, "You don't have to leave. I can tell by now that you're upset with me, but can't we work it out? Can you at least tell me what I've done wrong?"

She gave him another wan smile and shook her head. "I've scheduled the movers for Saturday."

* * *

Sango was sweating a little with the work of packing up her belongings, but now she let the big men load all of her things in the truck. Miroku sat on the couch, sullen and withdrawn, flipping channels as if he couldn't pay attention to anything.

When the movers were finished, she told them to go on over and she'd follow in her car. Kagome would help them start unloading.

She stood by the couch until Miroku looked up and turned the TV off. This was it. She licked her lips but didn't know what to say.

"Why are you punishing me?" he finally said.

She sighed and sank down beside him. "I'm not." And when he snorted, continued, "I'm really not. This has nothing to do with you -- or at least, I'm not doing it _for_ you . . . to hurt you. I just . . . can't handle you anymore."

"You're my partner, Sango," he replied fervently, turning so he could look at her. "You'll always _be_ my partner, whatever the papers say. You're the best partner I've ever had. I thought you felt the same way."

"I did . . . I do. I just . . . can't . . ." She had trouble getting the words out.

"I did. I do," he mimicked. "Why do _I_ have to suffer just because you're having an identity crisis! Why are you ruining our friendship just because you can't handle things and _won't come to me?_ I thought you trusted me, Sango."

"It's not like we can't hang out," she said. "We don't have to stop being friends." There was a sort of yearning in her eyes, but she looked down to hide it. "I just can't . . . can't work with you. Can't live with you."

"Why not?"

She sighed and stood, going to the door. He followed her, refusing to be deterred.

"Why not, Sango! Tell me!"

"Because I love you," she said softly, blushing. He was silent, but she didn't dare look at his eyes. "It gets in the way at work and . . . I don't trust myself living here with you. I don't trust that I won't do something stupid." She sighed and felt her eyes fill up. "Goodbye, Miroku." She turned and left.

He stayed, standing there, listening to his own breathing, and it was a long time before he could move to close the door behind her.

* * *

"Do you want to come?"

"What?" Miroku had been cleaning his gun and chatting with Inuyasha when Sango approached them.

"Kagome and I are going to the movies tomorrow night. Do you two want to come?"

Miroku stared at her, but Inuyasha said "Sure" without looking up -- like it was no big deal.

"Great." She smiled and turned and walked off -- as if she always invited men she loved to the movies.

Miroku went back to cleaning his gun, but his mind was no longer on it. He'd been very careful around her ever since she'd moved out and she seemed to take pains to avoid him.

She was _such_ a strange woman.

* * *

"You didn't have to do it all so suddenly, you know." They were getting popcorn and talking softly as they waited. There were a lot of things to be said, and Kagome and Inuyasha were getting seats. "It was a real shock."

She grimaced and looked up at him. "Yes. I did. If I'd taken my time, you would have given me those big dark eyes and I would have lost my nerve." She smiled, only half joking, and he put his hand on her waist to push her forward because the line was moving. She blushed, then turned and smacked him when she felt it travel lower. "Then there's _that_. You expected me to deal with that day in, day out?"

He rubbed his cheek. "You hit harder now."

They got the popcorn and headed toward the theater, companionable and silent. He knew that he was forgiven for groping her because she'd stopped glaring -- so it seemed that although she hit harder, she forgave him more quickly now. Before, she'd hold it against him for an hour.

"You know my good and my bad . . ." he counted on his fingers, "my manners . . . my habits . . . and you still love me?" He looked incredulous.

She smiled and shrugged, a little shy. "Yeah."

He stopped her in a little dark corner and looked at her seriously. A gorgeous girl in very little clothing walked by them and his eyes followed her for a moment.

A sharp pain in his foot brought him back to the girl in front of him, who was stomping on it.

"At least you know how to keep me in line," he said, laughing through the pain.

She glared at him. "Lech."

"But you still love me, right?" His grin was cheeky.

She rolled her eyes and turned red. "Not if you keep asking me."

"Maybe I should look for a more patient girlfriend -- hey, do you want to spend the night at my place?" He winked. "I don't have a roommate anymore, so noone will bother us."

"Girlfriend! Don't I deserve a little more than that? I've been groped by you much longer than any other girl." Her voice was calm, but she was heady with delight. He'd essentially just asked her, in a roundabout way, to go out with him. And she, replying, had accepted. "Besides," she gave him a sharp look. "I'm not sleeping with you unless you marry me."

"What!" he looked panicked.

"Like you said -- I know how to keep you in line. You, my little pervert, don't even get to cop a feel until the preacher says so. Why do you think I moved out?"

He grinned and growled at her, swooping in to kiss her and drawing her into the dark theater with him, laughing. "We'll see."

In the darkness before the previews, everyone could hear a resounding slap.

The End


	2. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

I decided to have Sango change partners and move out because she couldn't work effectively with her emotions for him getting in the way and confusing her when she needed to stay clear-headed, and because she couldn't chance sleeping with him -- especially if he didn't love her back. 

I had her say she wouldn't sleep with him until they were married because I think that's an effective way to handle Miroku. And that's really the way Sango handles him, as far as I can tell. She doesn't allow him liberties just because she loves him -- she understands that he's going to respect her body whether he likes it or not until she's ready to give it to him. That's why she gets mad when he gropes her. And I think that Sango really is a respectable girl -- one who would wait until her wedding night, even if her fiance's a lech. _Especially_ if her fiance's a lech. That was how a woman got a Henry VIII -- refusing to sleep with him until he married her. Good ol' Henry was a lech too and went to extreme measures to be able to make her his wife. It's not just about purity -- it's about strategy.


End file.
